In Secret We Meet
by Trumpet-Geek
Summary: USUK. "This was not just a hook up –the way England would softly touch his fingertips to America's cheek, the way their lips met, so comfortable and familiar…their ridiculous talk of making sandwiches after sex... No, this wasn't just a hook up. They were in love." Written for Secret Santa 2012 event.


**In Secret We Meet**

_By_: TG

_Summary_: "This was not just a hook up –the way England would softly touch his fingertips to America's cheek, the way their lips met, so comfortable and familiar…their ridiculous talk of making sandwiches after sex... No, this _wasn't_ just a hook up. They were in love."

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Hetalia or the title (a line from _When We Two Parted_ by Lord Byron)

_Warnings_: So much fluff you might accidentally choke on it.

_AN_: Written for lucia2309 for the 2012 Secret Santa fic/art exchange over on LJ!

Her prompt was 'a fluffy fic about them doing something unexpectedly tender in a domestic setting (basically established relationship fluff).' This isn't exactly a domestic setting but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

* * *

_Thump_.

Francis frowned and turned his face further into his pillow, unwilling to lose the haze of warmth and sleep that had settled over him and his nest of blankets. In his arms, Mattieu didn't even stir; he slept like a rock –heavy and relaxed and pliable.

_Thump thump_.

He stayed tense for a few moments more, but when the sound didn't happen again he allowed himself to relax into drowsiness. Francis let out a sigh and shifted against his lover's back, comfortable.

_Thump thump__** bang**_. The sounds of very familiar voices murmuring and giggling.

Francis made a frustrated noise and rolled onto his back. With 150 nations in the same house there was bound to be some noise throughout the night, but this sounded like it was right outside his door and it was driving him crazy.

He shuffled the blankets around, careful not to let any of the cold night air into their nest, put on his robe, and stuffed his feet into his slippers. The bed creaked slightly as he rose, but he thought nothing of it until Mattieu's sleep-hoarse voice stopped him.

"Francis?"

"N'inquiéte pas, c'est juste ton frère. Je serai de retour bientôt, amour, juste reste au lit."*

"…All right," the Canadian replied sleepily. Francis smiled and affectionately brushed the hair from Mattieu's forehead, bending down to kiss him there.

He lingered for a moment, watching Mattieu settle back into the blankets and fall back to sleep before he turned to leave. The door was well-oiled and he was able to slip out unnoticed –by either Mattieu or the two he suspected were making the racket in the hallway.

Luckily, he didn't have to go very far to find them.

Oh dear, Francis thought delightedly. Now all the thumps and bangs he'd heard earlier made sense. He slowly backed up to the wall, trying not to be seen –though to be honest, America and England were so busy making out that being seen wasn't really a threat at this point.

"Alfred –ah!- don't you think we should be doing this elsewhere? Perhaps not in the hallway where anyone could see us?"

Arthur moaned and flushed at the sound of his own wanton voice –he'd meant for that to come out more admonishingly, honest. Encouraging Alfred when he was in a mood such as this was something he tried to avoid, as it would inevitably end in his own embarrassment.

But oh, those lips on his neck, the breath ghosting across his pulse, the fingers hooking into his hair and tugging just right –

Alfred moved back to gently tease at his lips, kissing the corners and dancing away when Arthur tried to force a firmer contact.

"Probably," Alfred murmured. Arthur sighed as their lips finally met, and he and Alfred kissed over and over until they became dizzy from lack of air. "But I just can't help myself sometimes."

"Mm," Arthur agreed, fingers tangling in Al's cotton shirt to drag his hips forward. He wanted Alfred to cage him in, wanted to feel his strength and his warmth. Alfred obliged, rolling his hips just enough to tease.

"You are so sexy."

"And you're a twat," Arthur breathed, affectionately exasperated. He lifted a hand to run it through his love's hair, trailing it down to feel the contours of Alfred's muscled chest. He smirked slightly when he found what he was looking for –Alfred's ticklish spot. He poked the American's rib and Alfred squirmed away, laughing breathlessly.

"What was that for!?"

"Next time don't be a tease," Arthur said, smirking. Alfred pouted at him.

"Arthur, I told you already that I'm too tired for sex."

"Yes, but I thought maybe you would change your mind."

Alfred whined. "But I'm jetlagged and we have a meeting tomorrow and I'll probably fall asleep in the middle."

"I'll make you a sandwich."

"And now you're trying to kill me!"

Arthur growled and attacked Alfred's ribs, only just remembering to clap a hand over Alfred's mouth before he started shrieking his laughter.

Francis stood and watched in the shadows for a few moments, and he felt like he was seeing them for the first time. He had always expected that they would hook up –every other nation would agree that it was practically inevitable. But now, intruding on their private moment together, he felt his paradigm shift. This was not just a hook up –the way England would softly touch his fingertips to America's cheek, the way their lips met, so comfortable and familiar…their ridiculous talk of making sandwiches after sex... No, this _wasn't_ just a hook up.

They were in love.

Francis smiled softly to himself and slipped back into his room –he no longer had the heart to be upset with them. He had known England for a very long time. The Brit's life had been filled with damage, pain, sorrow, and war from the time he was small until very recently. And America, who had fought so hard to be noticed by the entire world, who now had such a responsibility on his young shoulders…that they both found love and peace in each other was a beautiful thing.

And it was about damn time.

Mattieu was out like a light again and did not even stir when Francis got into bed behind him. He hoped that America and England –no, Alfred and Arthur could be as happy as he and Mattieu have been.

Out in the hallway Arthur had ceased his tickle attack, fearing someone would hear them. He tried to be upset that he wasn't getting sex, but Alfred yawned and Arthur found that he couldn't stay mad when Alfred was cuddling up to him, so obviously sleepy but trying to fight it off to please him.

"Come on, love, let's get you to bed then," he muttered, wrapping an arm around Alfred's lean waist and guiding him back to their room.

"God, I love you," Alfred groaned, nuzzling Arthur's hair and planting a kiss just above his ear.

"And I love you."

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_AN_: Thank you for reading, and make sure to go check out the rest of the awesome USUK fics at usxuk. livejournal. com! Oh, and don't forget to follow trumpet-geek. tumblr. com also!

* Don't worry, it's just your brother. I'll be back soon, love, just go back to bed.

TG © January 2013


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